Variorum
by Snazzy Elle
Summary: Because not all romances are fairytales. Sometimes they are just simple meetings by simple friends. Then, sometimes they are more. Claire/Leon; pre-Resident Evil Four.


Author's Note: Eh, hi? So, yeah, back with another one shot. I blame Ryan and his pestering. This plot is cliched and overused to the max, but at this point, I don't care. So, enjoy and all that jazz.

**Variorum**

The room blended into a mixture of colors as the night went by. The lights from the dance floor combined with the people and the loud boom of the music was enough to make anyone a little disoriented. This scene was not in the norm for the young red haired woman perched upon the bar stool. Tonight was a special night; a night for celebration. After all, everyone was here commemorating the anniversary of Umbrella's downfall.

Claire Redfield eyed the half-filled glass on the sleek bar top and groaned. A slight, pulsing feeling from the left side of her head was hampering her ability to socialize for the rest of the night. Groaning, Claire's hand pushed away the remainder of the drink. What was she doing here, anyways? Not that she didn't enjoy seeing everyone(it had been several years since she had seen Jill and Barry), but a club was not Claire's forte. The music and atmosphere was too loud for her. For the most part, Claire was an outgoing person, but this monstrosity that was playing overhead was enough to put anyone in a foul mood.

"Claire?" her brother sat himself upon the stool next to her, "What are you still doing here?"

"Just thinking," she answered truthfully, hands fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist. Despite having one residing in her hair, Claire often found herself with multiple scrunchies on her hand. In a way, it was a good habit to have in case one broke.

Chris eyed his sister warily before standing up and pulling her with him, "C'mon, Claire. You can't just sit there the entire time. People want to see you, you know."

Rolling her eyes, Claire replied with a simple, "Like who?"

The older Redfield fell silent, "Rebecca said she wanted to dance a little bit. Do you thi--"

"Sure," interrupted Claire. With a swish to her red ponytail, the younger Redfield was off looking for the ex-S.T.A.R.S. member. Rebecca and her had never been close, per say, but the girl was the only one close to Claire's age there. Pushing pass a few people in the sea of dancers, Claire's baby blues finally settled down upon the young woman, "Rebecca!"

The younger girl twirled around, a bright smile on her face at the sight of her friend. "Claire!" she greeted in a breathy tone, "Let's dance."

"Alright," replied Claire as she rubbed her temples. As the tempo of the music danced into something softer—more melodic—Rebecca's expression turned into a pouting one. At this, Claire smiled a real smile; honestly, dancing wasn't her thing. "Maybe next dance?" the younger Redfield suggested, until she felt a tap on her shoulder. Spinning around, the young woman was greeted with brown leather. Of course, the jacket could only belong to one person—Leon S. Kennedy. Not only was he her partner in the Raccoon City outbreak, but part of her told herself that feelings for him went a little bit more beyond friendship. Maybe.....

"Hey stranger," the man said with a slight smile, sandy bangs concealing one blue eye. Claire merely grinned at the sight of him and backed up slightly. A flood of happiness surged through her body at the sight of the government agent.

"I didn't think you were coming," she commented with a slight smirk. Crossing her arms, Claire leaned forward in a playful manner, "Couldn't keep away, right?"

Holding up his hands in mock defeat, Leon's lips curled upward, "You got me, Redfield. I decided to stop by for a while. Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow, anyways."

Claire frowned, "Oh? Where are you going?" By this point, Rebecca had fluttered off to go find someone else. Not that Claire noticed, really; her attention was on one Leon S. Kennedy.

"Spain," replied Leon in a simple tone. He shrugged his shoulders and added, "The president's daughter is missing. I have to go find her."

"That's terrible. Poor kid," Claire voiced her opinion before shaking her head. "Anyways, I'm glad you're here. Let's get something to drink." Stopping, the younger woman turned around and eyed Leon, "Unless you can't handle your alcohol, Mr. Kennedy."

Leon chuckled in reply, turning Claire around by a mere brush on his hand on her shoulder, "You'd be surprised at how much alcohol I can consume without being completely intoxicated."

Sliding into her previous seat, Claire spun her chair half-ways to gaze at the government agent. With a smirk, Claire ordered herself a cosmopolitan and motioned for Leon to do the same. "Pick your poison," she drummed her fingers on the counter top, eyes glued to the young Kennedy.

"Scotch," Leon sat himself to Claire's left and slid off his jacket, "on the rocks."

Claire lifted an eyebrow, "Scotch? Someone is feeling a little adventurous today."

"Aren't I always?" retorted Leon as a playful expression painted onto his face. "Why? Are you and your sissy drink scared?"

"A Redfield scared?" Claire placed a mocking hand over her heart, "I'm appalled!"

Leon only grinned and lifted his glass to his lips. The female next to him only laughed a bit before wrapping her fingers around her glass and hoisting it up, "Cheers to--"

"Life?"

"And some normality," added in Claire as she pressed her glass to the older man's with a soft clinging noise. Both proceeded to drink from their glasses before an idea came to the younger Redfield.

"Hey Leon?" another playful smile crossed her face. Her fingers tapped against the cool glass of her drink, "I bet I can down my drink faster than you."

The government agent merely raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? And what are we betting, exactly?"

"Uh," Claire's baby blues scanned around the bar, hoping for an idea, "I got it! If I win, you got to let me drive that BMW in your garage."

Leon grimaced, "You'll wreck it."

Claire lightly pushed Leon's arm, "Oh please. You're just jealous of my epic driving skills."

"Says the person who is driving around on a motorcycle," Leon placed his glass down on the counter, "and has wrecked it more times than I can count."

Pointing an accusing finger at Leon, Claire scoffed, "Dream killer. Anyways, name your end of the bargain."

"Hm," the sandy haired man turned to face the bar, "if I win, I want you to tell me a secret."

This confused Claire, "A secret? Like, in general, or....?"

Leon shrugged, "Anything, I guess. We don't exactly talk much anymore, Red."

A sad smile adorned Claire's face, "Well, Mr. Kennedy, I say we give this little battle a go."

Taking his glass into his hand, Leon turned around to face Claire once more, "Ready."

"Let the best one win," Claire winked in Leon's direction and tipped the liquid into her lips. The man beside her mimicked the action; the battle had begun. Within the next thirty seconds or so, Leon gently placed the glass cup on the table and turned to Claire with a chuckle.

"Looks like I win," he said smugly.

"You cheated," Claire teased before calmly placing her own glass on the counter top.

"How can you cheat at a drinking game, Claire?"

"You just can," Claire giggled lightly before flagging down the bartender. Ordering another drink, she turned back to Leon and jiggled her ankle, "So, what do you want to know?"

Leon shrugged once more and closed his eyes for a moment, "I'm sure you'll think of something, Red. You're the one with the highly creative imagination."

"Har-dee-har, you're hysterical," replied Claire in a sarcastic tone before accepting the glass from the bartender in front of her. Leon only chuckled slightly as the young woman next to him began to take small sips from her glass.

"Don't you think you've had enough to drink already, Claire?"

The blue eyed woman next to him only laughed, "Who are you? Chris? C'mon, Leon, lighten up a bit. S'not like I drink a lot, anyways. Once in a lifetime thing."

The two of them ideally continued conversation, not really caring what the subject topic was. Claire had always considered Leon to be a special person in her life, but the chance to actually sit down and have a decent conversation with him was an extreme rarity. A few weeks after the Raccoon City incident, the young Redfield woman found herself packing her items for Paris, leaving behind the ex-rookie cop and Birkin child. As much as Claire had protested with the idea of leaving, Leon had practically shouted at her to go. So she had left on the first Europe-bound flight, swearing to return to the young child soon. Of course......

"What are you thinking about?" Leon asked with a rather amused expression on his face, "You're never this quiet."

Claire shrugged innocently, "Nothing really. Just thinking." She drummed her slim fingers on the table before shaking her head clear. Some auburn tresses fell into her vision. Before Claire had a chance to push the strands back, a rough hand had beaten her to it, tucking the lock behind her ear. Surprised, the young woman shot her companion a look.

"Someone is feeling bold," she teased lightly, taking her glass back into her hand, "thank-you, though." Pausing, Claire's eyes explored the rather uncomfortable look on Leon's face with concern, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Leon assured as he rubbed the sensitive spot on his shoulder. Claire instantly noticed where he was in pain; the area where the bullet had passed through his skin a couple of years ago.

Claire's eyebrows knitted together as a worried expression spread across her face. "Does it hurt?" she softly asked, free hand nervously twisting the fabric of her jacket. Despite the rather hot temperature outside, the club itself was freezing.

The government agent hesitated, "Only when it's humid outside. The moisture in the air makes it sore." Nodding in agreement, Claire could only picture the moment she had gazed upon the bullet wound. Shortly after the train had incinerated, the team of three wandered into the next town over, which was more of a motel with a few stores, if anything. Even though the bullet hadn't been stuck in his skin, the pain had still been tremendous. More than anything, Claire could remember the pained expressions Leon had kept hidden from Sherry; he didn't want to upset her more than she already was. While Sherry had taken the first shower, Claire meandered around the motel's front office until she had discovered the first aid kit. So, as the sound of the pounding water drowned out any noises, the young college student had proceeded to cleanse out the nasty looking wound on Leon's shoulder. The task was a painful one for both of them. Every time Claire would press the cotton ball containing disinfectant, a low hiss would escape from Leon's lips. After Sherry and Claire had been cleaned, Leon had much difficulty with his own shower. He mangled it, somehow, without complications except for one.

His wound had begun to bleed once more.

Sherry had been asleep before the rookie-cop called out to Claire, shirt off with the blood oozing from his shoulder mixing with the water dripping off of him. Any medical team wouldn't have made it in time; Claire knew what was going to happen. As she threaded the needle, her own complexion turned ghastly. She had only been nineteen—a college student—but she had someone's life sitting in her hands. When she first inserted the needle into Leon's flesh, tears coursed down her face. As she continued her task, her fear levels where off the charts. However, despite the fact that he was the one receiving a slapdash job from a nineteen-year-old, Leon remained calm. He only spoke sometimes to voice how well she was doing. Throughout the delicate process, Claire was amazed at how bravely the rookie cop was dealing with—what she assumed to be—extreme pain.

When everything was over, Claire slumped down on the cool tilted floor with Leon whining in pain against her right shoulder. The actual look of it was gruesome, but she had honestly tried the best she could. The two sat there like that until well into the morning, when the rescue team ushered them over to a hospital. Since then, Claire had never seen the scar that had been left as a result of her handiwork.

"It doesn't look awful," commented Leon as though answering her thought process. "Actually," he added in, "the scar is faint. You can hardly tell it's there."

"Really?" Claire asked as she looked over at Leon's shoulder.

"Honestly," he smiled for reassurance, making Claire's mood brighten. She laughed a bit and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand.

"I must say, that night killed my dreams of wanting to be a doctor."

"If you didn't like someone, you might 'accidentally' jab someone with a needle."

"Would not!" protested Claire. She smacked his good shoulder with a mock glare, "Jerk."

Leon chuckled before standing up and glancing at his watch. "It's getting late," he said, "or, rather, early. C'mon and give Chris your motorcycle keys. I'll take you home."

Claire shook her head, "That's alright, Leon. I can drive myself home."

"Claire," Leon said in a firm voice, hands plucking her keys from the small purse she brought, "you're borderline drunk--"

"--Tipsy--"

"--Drunk," he grabbed her by the wrist and began to tug her to the door where Chris stood. "Besides, your brother would kick my ass if I let you drive home with even the legal amount in your system."

Knowing she was going to lose this argument, the younger Redfield huffed and allowed Leon to drag her out the door. As they passed Chris and Jill, Claire mumbled her goodbyes and walked to the government agent's sleek car.

The ride home was rather silent, save for the soft beat and lyrics coming from the radio. Absentmindedly, Claire watched outside the window. At the moment, everything was blurring together, thanks to her rather impaired vision. Maybe Leon was right; maybe she did have a little too much to drink. Before Claire could even process what was happening, the car stopped, indicating that they had reached her apartment complex.

"Thanks for the ride home," murmured Claire as she went to close the car door.

Leon, on the other hand, unbuckled his seat belt and locked the car, "I'll walk you to your apartment."

"Leon," Claire sighed and started to walk off, not even caring to finish her sentence. She knew that fighting with the young Kennedy wasn't going to prove much good. Besides, the night was still young, and Leon hadn't had that much to drink; he'd be more than capable of drinking himself home. Finally, the two of them reached Claire's apartment. Fishing the keys from her purse, Claire swiftly opened the door and inhaled the fresh scent of her home. Spinning around, Claire's blue eyes locked with Leon's for a small moment before she offered a smile.

"Thanks for walking me to my apartment."

"It's no problem." The government agent was silent for a moment before leaning against the frame of her door, "You know, Claire, I did win that drinking contest."

The red haired woman nodded, "I know you did, Leon. What about it?"

"Well," Leon pushed himself off the door. Then, with a soft thudding noise, he closed it behind him and locked it, encasing the two in a dull darkness, "You never told me a secret."

With a huff, Claire flipped on the light to the living room area and rolled her eyes, "Okay? What do you want to know?" Leon stepped forward in Claire's direction. Bending his head so that his breath tickled the shell of her ear, he finally spoke.

"What do you think about me? Honestly." Claire stiffened, not expecting this question at all. What was she suppose to say? If anything was said—anything that surpassed the limitations of friendship—how would Leon react? Despite the alcohol in her system, Claire knew that she wasn't entirely drunk enough to blame whatever she might say on being impaired. Gulping nervously, the younger woman shifted her weight to her other foot and exhaled.

"Leon," she whispered back in reply, eyes closing for a moment as she looked away. "Could you ask a different question?"

Taken back, Leon moved away from Claire and lifted an eyebrow, "Why? What's wrong with this question?"

Claire forced her gaze to remain on the ground. She couldn't bare to face his expression right now. "Because," she inhaled sharply for more confident, "because if I were to tell you the answer, you might not like it too much."

"Why?" questioned Leon once more, not even bothering to tell Claire to look at him. What was with her sudden change in attitude?

Shaking her head, Claire refused to meet the eyes that were glazing down at her, "Because it would change our relationship. Most probably for the worst."

The government agent let out a sound of annoyance, "Claire, just tell me." With one hand, he gently lifted her chin up so that he had a clear view of her eyes, "You can tell me anything. You know that."

Exhaling slowly, Claire dared a chance to look into Leon's eyes. The man before her merely smiled, as if coaxing her onward to tell him what she thought. This shouldn't have been such a hard question to answer, but it was. Despite her head screaming at her not to ruin her friendship, Claire's arms wrapped around Leon's neck. She stood up slightly before pressing her lips to Leon's. Almost instantly she recoiled, removing her arms as she backed away from the man before her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "that's why I didn't want to tell yo--"

Warm lips covered her own, instantly stifling any words that were coming from her mouth. Shocked, Claire merely wrapped her arms back around Leon's neck, further deepening the kiss. The two of them broke apart after a while for much needed oxygen. Gently, Leon rested his head on top of Claire's, not wanting to disrupt the tiny feeling of peace between them. After a small while, Leon broke the silence, "Why didn't you want to tell me?"

"I didn't think you liked me the way I like you," replied Claire as she rested her cheek against the smooth fabric of his jacket. "I thought you still had feelings for...."

"You're wrong, though," Leon sighed and closed his eyes, body remaining perfectly still. From behind them, the clock read 2:00 A.M., much to Claire's dismay. "I can't stay, you know. Not for much longer."

Claire opened her eyes, looking up at Leon before nodding, "I know you can't."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yes."

"Why?" breathed out Leon as he pulled away from Claire slightly. "I don't know what's waiting for me in Spain. Hell, I don't even know when I'm coming back, Claire."

The red haired woman offered a smile before shaking her head, "I can wait, Leon. Besides, I know you'll be perfectly fine in Spain. I mean, what can be worse than Raccoon, right?"

Leon fell silent for a moment before pushing away from Claire after a moment or two. A pensive look appeared on his face as he removed his jacket, and started to unbutton his dress shirt. Slightly flushed, Claire's mouth dropped open, "What are you doing?"

"Showing you the scar," he replied smoothly, hand pushing away the fabric from his shoulder. There, in all of it's pink and discolored glory, was the scar due to Claire's handywork. Slowly, she took a step forward, hand running down the flesh for a moment as she sighed. Just as Leon had said, it honestly didn't look that bad; nothing like she had remembered it during that awful night. Pulling away, Claire offered another bright smile. Gently, she pressed her lips against Leon's one last time before handing him his jacket with a glance at the clock.

"It's getting late. You should go."

"I know. Hey Claire?"

"Yeah?" She turned to face the sandy haired man with a look of confusion on her face.

Leon hesitated for a moment, hand resting on the knob of her front door, "Be careful, alright? Don't...get yourself into any trouble."

"Shouldn't I be telling this to you?" teased the younger Redfield before she shook her head. Leon returned the comment with a soft smile of his own. As Claire watched the government agent leave, she somehow knew that, despite everything that might happen, things were going to be okay.

After all, it wasn't like this was their happily ever after; it was their beginning.


End file.
